


Polarity Shift

by GhastlyGhost



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drabble, Emotional Turmoil, Gen, Mental Anguish, One Character, One Shot, Post-Talon, Psychological Trauma, Short One Shot, Team Talon (Overwatch), but then realizes he's in over his head even when surrounded by allied Overwatch forces, it is however in english but my man speaks dutch and you will have to go to duolingo, just kidding i have other interests... that may involve sigma, old man in pain, old man makes Talon pay, old man turned badass, only sigma... i only make sigma content from now on, possible reinhardt, talon being a menace again and not letting an old man have a break, untranslated dutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22618912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhastlyGhost/pseuds/GhastlyGhost
Summary: After having been taken in by Overwatch, Siebren has been given time to recover from the experience he was subjected to at the hands of Talon. However, with was still ravaging the world, his rest is cut short, forcing him to make a decision.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Polarity Shift

The explosions. The cacophony of gunfire. The torturous rumbling of the far too small building, causing parts of the ceiling to crumble and lights to flicker as their fixtures lost integrity. People screamed, ran, and fought with whatever they had outside and inside. 

Not Siebren, however.

Rather than stand tall and fight for his life and freedom, he shrunk. He shrunk into a corner of his quarters, his head shielded by hands and knees as tears cascaded down his face, sobs racking his body, eyes squeezed shut. Even his feet crossed over each other in an attempt to make his position as closed as possible, as guarded as possible. He rocked lightly back and forth through uncontrollable trembling. If only he could contort himself into a single atom and be gone from the agonizing chaos that roared around him. Perhaps, then, he’d at last be safe, free from this constant waiting for the rapids the universe continuously thrust him into.

He didn’t want to go back. 

_Dwing me niet om terug te gaan. Alsjeblieft... Alsjeblieft niet!_

“Alsjeblieft,” he begged in a cracked whisper, sliding his hands over the back of his head to bury his face farther away. “Alsjeblieft. Ik wil het niet. Ik wil het niet.”

He would rather feel death's eternal embrace than be forced to return to his last captors and smear yet more innocent blood on his hands. He rather cease to have ever been at all than be subjected to whatever it was Talon had in store for him this time. The universe would answer his pleading with nothing. He wasn’t a man of god, there was nothing he could pray to for protection, and no one on this earthly coil who would suffice. _He couldn't… He-_

“Ik kan het niet. Ik-” A wail slipped from between his lips.

Yet again, he was hopeless, helpless. Told to stay put and wait for Overwatch to handle this while he remained in the tenuous safety of his quarters, he could only hold so much faith in their small chance for success. It took so long, and he knew what Talon was capable of. Almost all of his being felt ill at the thought of them breaking down the door and dragging him, kicking and screaming until they knocked him out, with them. His stomach twisted into knots, his throat clenched. He clapped a hand over his mouth, one part to silence himself, one part to prevent himself from spitting up. He gulped and swallowed through his shivering, soft whimpers escaping his fragile form. 

Then it all stopped.

Disorienting and deafening fear had been cut through by something new, something stronger. Purpose. The noise had lifted. Someone else had taken the helm, but it was still him. A certainty washed over him, like someone firmly gripping his shoulder and speaking directly to his mind, dispelling all but them. He was instantaneously filled with nothing but clarity. All his fractured parts had come together, joined for a singular goal. He was afloat, through the ravaging of his safe haven, his tears still clinging to his skin and mixing with dirt and dust, with but one thought in mind. 

_Bevecht dit._

Fight this. 

He would fight this, tooth and nail, now that, if they were indeed here to steal him away, this time he was able to fight. Their violence would be answered with an opposite reaction built up from years of suffering. If that was what it took, that was what he would do. Their violence would be answered with a violence so exquisite it would shake galaxies. People were dying, and he had been given a gift that could help end that. He had to use it. It was his obligation to.

Overwatch had allowed him to decide whether he wanted to keep the equipment Talon had outfitted him with and let them make various adjustments in their labs. While they assured him there would be no deploying him into a battle, he knew to remain prepared, and he knew where to go. 

Siebren always had help equipping his harness. Even in a rush, however, he paid enough attention to know some of the steps. Sharp eyes examined each component. This harness had indeed been altered, though not enough to make it impossible to don alone. It was less crude, far more streamlined, more approachable. He knew putting this on would permanently mark him as Overwatch, but that was scarcely a concern worth keeping. Now, the wires that had to be attached to the base of his skull… They were the same. 

He put on the base of his gear, the jumpsuit, the bits and pieces that layered it. Everything, sans shoes. He wouldn't be needing those.

The way the larger and more elaborate torso section hung in the display frame with a screen turned towards it, he could have sworn Overwatch had anticipated this moment just as much as he had. All he needed to do to attach it was turn around, back into it, and connect the primary cerebral cord. The screen popped on, displaying a diagnostic in progress. Automated vertebral alignment. Interesting. It also displayed other changes. His shield generators had been significantly upgraded. No doubt Winston's doing. Good. Hopefully, it would no longer feel as though he was defending his colleagues with a sheet of paper.

He took the time it took for the machine to prepare his first time use to wipe some of the filth from his face. It was getting uncomfortable.

The machine shifted as the diagnostic progressed. There was a soft hiss. Several studs pressed into his back, down the upper portions of his spine, with a painful pressure and a pinch that passed in a mere second. The front connections of his armor clamped on, followed by the shoulders. The wiring that connected to his gloves, he attached himself, flexing his fingers to check the integrity of the connection and the fit of the material around his fingers. His leg braces were secured with a little more effort. 

What more was there to equip? A helmet? With an opaque screen? No. No, he wanted Talon to see his face when he destroyed them. He wanted them to see the _man_ they'd turned into their own demise, not just a _weapon_. 

His hyperspheres… They were purely for offensive capability. He couldn’t say for certain if he was quite ready for that, even now, when he moved with such purpose. He would take them, unfolded and neatly stored on the arm of his right glove for if the need to use them arose.

Another check. Everything was in order, well within acceptable margins. Sigma… _Siebren_ ready to deploy.

After making his way through the facility, closed up in a state of emergency but not entirely unbreachable, he found the exit. Sunlight and the screaming of both people and weaponry met him at the doors. He remained unperturbed, gliding his way past several combatants, far in the backline, on his way to the most optimal position, just as he had been made to do in Talon. No one questioned his arrival. No one could. There was no space or time for them to even begin to do so. Their eyes were trained on the skies.

So, Talon had sent gunships? Relatively lightly armored, with weak weaponry, compared to what he knew Talon was well in their ability to deploy. A difficult problem, all the same, but not without a solution. Judging from the chatter of the Overwatch troops around him, they were holding Talon off in anticipation for allied reinforcements. All they required was time, time Siebren could offer. The gunships looked to be preparing a volley of missiles, trained on the entrance of the main building he’d just left, no doubt to cut off an escape. With an outreached hand, Siebren spread his shield, halting the barrage from striking the building. His barrier shattered from the final impact, sending the generator fragments back to him to regenerate. Though his shield had been made both larger and stronger than it had been, the structures to the side were unlucky, struck with bullets and explosions that had passed by Siebren's defenses, but the rubble could still prove useful. The shield, after a brief moment of collective surprise from his new allies, had also offered the Overwatch troops a precious few seconds to retaliate against the enemy. For one ship, this proved fatal. 

Siebren couldn't help but feel a small amount of satisfaction at its fall. Another ship found itself ambushed by an old friend. In the confusion Siebren's unannounced arrival had caused, Winston took it upon himself to launch into the opening of one of the Talon vehicles with a masterfully aimed jump. He made short work of it before retreating as the ship came crashing down. Impressive work, but the battle continued.

Guns turned towards Siebren, the Talon troops having recognized him as a threat. Loosing their ammunition on him, however, was more than a waste. In fact, it was a huge mistake. Yet again, he extended a hand, this time to grasp all matter, within a certain mass, that accelerated towards him and convert the energy into a bolstering of his personal shielding. By the time they realized this, it was too late. They needed to reload, giving Siebren time to gather the rubble around him into one collection, using both hands and the pull of gravity they generated. The strain it took was tremendous, and he could feel all the old sensations—the whispers, the muffled feeling in his head—returning. The boulder he had amassed was larger than he'd ever managed during his days with Talon, but he held fast. His mind was set on one thing. The last Talon gunship to not have retreated once things started looking ugly. With one mighty thrust of his hands, accompanied by a laboured grunt, Siebren sent the accumulation of mass flying into the gunship, a gunship with a pilot who only seemed to have gotten the hint that this battle was lost seconds before impact. Like all others, it crashed down, several Talon troops jumping out with their boosters to avoid dying in the ensuing blaze. 

Siebren observed the crash and glanced down at his hands. Part of him could feel bad for taking to this so naturally after the time he'd spent out of action, but it felt oddly satisfying using his abilities again, although about as nerve racking as it used to be as well. The adrenaline, the drum of his speeding heart pounding in his chest… he did miss that, unfortunately. At least, _some_ of him did. 

Finally, all they had to worry about were the ground troops. Disposing of them would be a simple matter, even without his hyperspheres. He wasn't reliant on those to incapacitate an aggressor. He didn’t need them to kill either, if the need happened to arise. He didn't think it would at this point, not for him. That was, until a new rumbling grew over the horizon. 

Siebren's eyes shifted from the ground troops to the air once again. Backup. A lot of backup. Too much backup.

 _"Get inside,"_ Siebren barked to the Overwatch troops around him. Some relayed his command to their allies on the comm channel and awaited approval. "Fall back, _now_. Get everyone inside and-" 

Oh no. No no no no **no**! 

The new ships prepared another hail of missiles. Siebren projected a barrier, erecting both hands to extend its surface area as wide as he could possibly manage. Oh god. He couldn't stretch it this wide. It couldn’t take this much damage. It would break before he could stop everything. Perhaps… _The rubble._ He could layer some of the rubble under it, just to be sure he could cover the retreat. He’d stay behind, and perhaps even be buried or captured, but the fight would be _far_ from over. Before half of the impacts had been made, he could feel and see his barrier become unstable.

As everyone ran past him, having gotten an official order to retreat back into the base, Siebren remained put, using all of his effort to form a blanket of rock and metal growing around several singularities, as with his accretion, for as long as he could. 

_The music…_ It was growing so loud… The laughing, the echoes, the whispers, the pulled strings of the universe ripping at his mind harder the longer he exerted himself… _It was too much_. His vision grew tunneled, the sounds of war had been replaced with the sound of his blood rushing, his heart beating, his mind screaming, and muffled chords that still shattered his hearing. Yet, he held. He couldn't do it for much longer, and he could no longer even tell when it would be enough, but he held. It may become the end of him, but he held. He would hold for as long as he had to, longer even. He would hold for as long as he could. 

Everything swam around him, **swarmed** around him, time winding in paths it wasn’t meant to take. Where was reality? Where had the world gone? Everything was a haze of noise, vision, touch, even taste and smell. He couldn't… _He couldn’t-_

He was snapped out of his daze by a powerful collision, rocketing him towards the facility, away from under the hellfire that would barrel towards him the moment his focus shattered, and knocking the wind from his lungs in the process. _Shatter his focus certainly did_. The warm dust that rushed through the halls as the building's front section collapsed was blinding, suffocating. His body crashed against the hard ground beneath him, a nearly crushing weight pressing down on him. In the darkness that swallowed him, Siebren wasn’t quite aware if he had just died or not. Death wasn’t supposed to be like this. There should be nothing but the collapsing of time and space as the brain died, but… this wasn’t that. This wasn’t that, at all.

It took a moment for his senses to return after the cacophony that had assaulted his senses and his body. The sounds of coughs and groans among the settling rubble gave some much needed context, and assurance that people had survived. Had he been saved? Was that what the impact had been? Siebren hadn't even the chance to lay eyes on his savior before the entire group he was with got shut into a facility with what seemed to be cut power to light. 

Not having had his cranium replaced could have proven useful right now… if only for the small bit of light it may have provided in exchange for the receding hairline he actually rather liked having back. He was certain the troops had lights on them, but they needed time to recover from the shock they'd been subjected to. He, too, could use a moment to catch what little breath the dust let him have. He moved his arm, honestly a little uncertain of where it would end up, until he could feel the inside of his elbow over his mouth. It wouldn't do much, but any little bit of protection for his stinging lungs was good. Maybe that helmet would have been a diligent choice, after all.

Finally, he managed to find the ability to speak once more. “Is… Is everyone alright?” he asked with a pained groan, still looking though nothing but a void ahead of him.

Didn’t this call for more of a _head count_? Ah… He had never been in the military, and the only one he was close with who would know had perished in the Omnic Crisis. These troops would do whatever protocol Overwatch knew. Asking if everyone was alright after all that, though? How naive. _Of course_ not everyone was alright. He could hit himself over the head about that later.


End file.
